By Marina Tsvetaeva
The former day he looked in eyes,
Today he seems to squint abroad.
The former day till birds he stayed,
Today all skylarks - ravens turned.
Say, I'm foolish - you are wise,
Alive - but I'm cooled entirely.
Oh, woe women's cry through times:
'What I've done for you, my darling? '
And tears then - the water. Blood -
The same. The tears, blood - I've got.
The mother to stepmother - Love
Has lost her Mercy in the court.
On ships beloved men - sail away,
The road white past them becoming...
And moan's loud through the land:
'What I've done for you, my darling? '
The former day he lay on knees,
And matched with giant China state.
Today his hands unclenched the ring,
And life has fallen rusty cent.
As childkiller under Law
I stand - unloved and idle staring.
In Hell I'd say you ever so:
'What I've done for you, my darling? '
I'll ask the chair and the bed:
'Why do such grief I suffer for? '
'When kissed - the blink forever left,
The other womens' kiss - the more...'.
To life in fire I've got used,
But thrown to the desert calming.
'That was your deed! ' - I cry anew -
'What I've done for you, my darling? '
Don't thwart me - I've percieved the all.
My eyes - not ever blind with lie.
The Love's today forever gone,
The Death is planting garden while...
And no need to shake the tree -
The apple ripe will fall in timing.
For all my deeds, oh please, forgive:
'What I've done for you, my darling? '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem